Snowing in October
by Scarlet11
Summary: On the snowy morning of October 31st in Hermione's 6th year at Hogwarts, she seeks out Harry, where she comes to an understanding and discovers beauty, love, and friendship. H/H -Edited-
1. Snowing in October

Hello, there. I've just done revision on Snowing in October, because I looked back on it, and there were some plain editing errors, and just some areas that I wasn't fully satisfied with. Well, The story, its one-shot, is all in Chapter Two ... So click on over there, and I hope you enjoy...   
  
And, of course, review, if you want to... 


	2. Snowing in October

A/N: This has been edited, as it was actually very horrible when I went back to check it over yesterday. So I did a bit of revising, and editing, and hopefully its a bit more presentable now... Anyways, it was written Pre-OoP, so there's no mention of those events, yet I don't think that anything really contradicts what was in the fifth book, besides the fact that Ron found out about the money Harry gave to Fred and George, and took it rather well, in my opinion. Well, I hope you enjoy, and thanks for reading!   
  
Snowing in October  
  
Even though Parvarti and Lavender always woke up almost two hours earlier than me, I don't remember what they were giggling about when I opened my eyes. But that does not matter - Parvarti and Lavender were of no importance that Monday. The cool temperature, though, does matter, for it was the reason I awoke that morning. Well, honestly, it was not "cool" that morning, but rather closer to freezing. . . But nonetheless, I blinked once, twice, and then groaned, pulled my blankets over my head, and rolled away from the frosted window. Of course, though, as soon as I almost drifted back into slumber, my brain functioned that frost on the window meant the possibility of snow, and sure enough, after reflexively twisting towards the window, I discovered it was snowing. Of course, that was the reason I was so cold.   
  
It was strange, I noted mentally, for it to snow so early in the season: it was only October, albeit it the month was surely coming to an end, as it was the thirty-first.… Halloween. All the same, I was sleepily, and childishly, giddy, and even then, I knew I wouldn't forget the sight of tiny white flakes falling onto the Hogwarts grounds.   
  
Deciding to catch an early breakfast, I slipped on my uniform, then my robes. And as my roommates struggled to transform their hair into delicate twists and knots, I French Braided my own quickly, then skipped down the stairs and through the Common Room, swinging my backpack along with me.   
  
After taking in the lavish Halloween decorations throughout the Great Hall, I immediately noticed Ron's flaming hair. Not many people were there yet, as it was earlier than I usually ate. Following a smile at Ron, I noticed something was wrong; he was fidgeting and seemed oddly distressed. As the fight that occurred between Ron and Harry yesterday inundated my consciousness, my giddy, snow-induced grin faded hastily.   
  
It was, as they usually are between the three of us, quite irrelevant, but, however, Ron seemed to feel the need to blow it up, as usual. After getting out of Hogwarts, the Weasley Twins were able to open a store in Hogsmeade, which happened to flourish, as it was so close to the students of the school. But, as it was a Hogsmeade weekend, we, of course, visited their shop and to check out any new products they had invented. When the boys went to purchase their items, Fred gave Harry this strange sort of glare, which Ron and I immediately caught. It was explained within seconds, though, as George came bounding over. "No way, Harry. As if we'd ever let you pay for something in this store!"  
  
"He's quite right, you know," Fred affirmed. "You will not give us a knut."  
  
Harry shifted his weight from foot to foot, playing with the sickles he had pulled from his money pouch. With a stammer, in his quiet voice, he whispered, "Err… guys... Its okay.…"   
  
"Why wouldn't he have to pay for anything?" Rom immediately asked, drowning out Harry's words, mostly likely mentally observing his brothers had never offered him a discount.   
  
"Harry, young Ron, is kind…" Fred began.  
  
"Generous…" George continued.  
  
"Charitable…"  
  
"And he gave us 1,000 galleons!"   
  
Ron dropped the Ferret Fruits (inspired by a nameless incident in my fourth year) he had been planning to buy on the ground. "1,000 Galleons?"  
  
"Correct you are, my dear brother!" Fred responded.   
  
"H - How… Why," Ron sputtered.  
  
George took the liberty of answering the question, not noticing the horrified expression that was gracing Harry's pale face, and most likely not realizing he was about to cause a blow up between best friends. "As Harry, we know, is the esteemed King of Galleons and All Things Gold and Monetary, he did not need an extra 1,000 galleons after winning the Tournament last year."  
  
Ron turned toward Harry with an eerie look on his face. Quietly, he said, "Why did you feel the need to donate 1,000 galleons to my family?"   
  
"I… I just gave it to them, Ron. And Its not like I was going to use it or anything."   
  
This, apparently, did not make Ron any happier: "Oh! So you're just so damn rich that you don't need 1,000 galleons, and can effortlessly cast it away to those poor Weasleys?" he drawled.  
  
"No! No! I… I didn't want it," Harry exclaimed, eyes widening. But Ron just glared at him. A few people from the store, mostly students, were watching now, while Fred, George, and I were too scared or stunned or perhaps a combination of both to say a word. "I mean, it should have been Cedric's, Ron," Harry pleaded desperately.  
  
"Cedric is, and was, dead, Harry. I don't think he could have spent it too well," Ron said coldly, with slit eyes.  
  
But that wasn't very smart of Ron, either. At first it was just a horrified expression on Harry's face, of disbelief, as if he couldn't believe Ron would say it. But once he realized that the words did, indeed, come from Ron's mouth his eyes narrowed and his face hardened. With a cold voice, much unlike his own, he gritted quietly, "Don't you dare say that about Cedric. Would you want to the keep anything that should have belonged to a person no longer alive, to a person whose death you witnessed, yet could do nothing about?" When Ron didn't answer, his eyes flared, and in a much larger voice, he bellowed, "ANSWER ME! WOULD YOU?" But when he still got no response, for Ron was too flustered or stunned, or perhaps both, he whipped around, threw a pile of sickles at the Twins. He let out a short, "Thank you," then turned on his heal and stormed out of store with out even remembering to bring his purchases with him.   
  
After he left, the room seemed to heat up a bit, as if it cooled down during their fight, unbeknownst to the onlookers, including myself. The twins looked in a disgusted manner at their brother. "That, Ronald," Fred began.  
  
"Was uncalled for," George finished.   
  
By now, Ron had fallen out of his stupor and was looking pleadingly at me, as if asking for support in this matter. I just shook my head. "Ron…" I started, but couldn't seem to find the words to convey exactly what I was feeling. "I… I can't believe… You… That's not… Horrible… Just…"   
  
During my own loss of speech, Fred went on. "You are in your sixth year at school now, Ron. You are sixteen! You should be able to deal with the money issue." It was in a detached tone, which was very uncharacteristic for either of the Twins. "And he owns fifteen percent of the profit we make, as our official investor. Grow up, Ron." With that, Fred and George gave Ron a hard look and then went off to help other costumers.   
  
As I still couldn't seem to communicate what I was feeling, which was not very positive towards Ron's arguments, I just gave him a disappointed look and left the shop. "I'm going back to the castle, Ronald," I stated.  
  
Harry wasn't at dinner and I didn't see him go into the Common Room that night.   
  
It seemed, though, that Ron had realized exactly what he had done, as he was looking quite distressed as I took a seat next to him that Monday morning, the thirty-first of October.   
  
"Hermione…" he began desperately, "I'm… I'm sorry."   
  
I felt my eyebrows rise. "Should you really be apologizing to me?"   
  
He bit his lip. "Well, yes. But not only you," he said with a calmer voice, yet still notably distraught.   
  
"I presume you'll be speaking with Harry today, then?" I asked shortly, although it sounded more like a statement or order.  
  
Ron nodded. "I can't find him, though. He didn't return to the dorm before I went to bed last night and wasn't in there when I woke up this morning."   
  
Although I was feeling quite nervous about Harry being missing, I figured Harry could take care of himself well enough, especially with Dumbledore hanging around. "He's fine, Ron."   
  
"Yea… I know. But I want to apologize."  
  
I smiled genuinely at that comment. "We'll find him after breakfast. Okay?"   
  
So we finished our breakfast in silence, then split up to search for Harry. After about forty-five minutes of no success, I was planning to give up, but my eyes rested upon the large oak doors that led outside. Would Harry have gone outside with it snowing and being so cold? I sighed, because knowing him, if he wanted to, he would, with no thought to any elemental barrier, even snow.   
  
So I pulled the oak doors open, and the first thing I saw was a half dressed Harry (wearing only boxers and a white T-shirt) sitting next to a cloaked Dumbledore on the highest step of the stairs. Harry had his arm out and was examining the snow flakes that landed on his pale, bare arm, as Dumbledore was intently watching him, and talking about something.   
  
I was so bewildered by the sight that I didn't even announce my presence.   
  
"You weren't really that upset with Mr. Weasley, am I correct, Harry?" Dumbledore was asking.   
  
Harry lifted his eyes from his arm and looked the Headmaster in the eyes. "No… I mean, Yes… I just… I was surprised by what he had said about Cedric…I know he didn't mean it... and I wasn't counting on him finding out about the money… I was planning on telling him sometime… And I know he's touchy about the money issue, and I should have told him right away, but I'm his friend! Not some stranger who just threw some sickles their way. And I've been so busy with... well, you know what I've been busy with... Voldemort and all, but... I… I was stressed. And he was just the one to make me snap… I didn't… I didn't mean it," he said in a miserable voice.   
  
I was transfixed. There was Harry talking to Dumbledore so carelessly! I had never heard anyone speak to Professor Dumbledore in such a friendly manner, besides a few of the professors, but then again, the headmaster was talking to Harry as an equal, in return. Even though he was giving him advice, it didn't seem to sound as if he were looking down at Harry. I was absolutely amazed.   
  
"I know you didn't mean it. You would never mean to hurt someone. Friends have their fights, though, Harry."   
  
Harry just nodded.   
  
"Are you going to be alright today, though? It's a dismal anniversary, I know, and just discovering that actual date of your parents' deaths last night…."   
  
"Yea. I'll be okay. I was just a little shocked when I saw that today would be the day that it happened… I mean, I wasn't looking for the date of their death or anything, but just a little more information on what they did…. why I could give away 1,000 galleons to the Twins."  
  
"Why don't you come to my office later today? We can talk some more. You know the password, I assume."  
  
"Yea, thanks. That'd be nice. After the feast?"  
  
"Of course. I'll be seeing you then, Harry."  
  
"Bye, Professor."   
  
"And Harry?"  
  
"Hmmm?"  
  
"Might want to put your robes back on before you go to class."   
  
"Yea. I will."  
  
There was a break in the conversation, in which Professor Dumbledore seemed to be deep in thought. "Or, Harry, if you like, you could take the day off from classes."  
  
With his eyes set upon the undisturbed blanket of snow across the grounds, he replied, "Yes, I'd like that. Thank you."   
  
"Of course. I'll inform your teachers. Have a good day, and I'll see you later."  
  
"Bye…"   
  
Harry slipped into his own world as the Headmaster stood up, and walked towards me. He raised his brow at me, and I blushed, but his eyes were twinkling. Still, he only smiled, and then winked at me before slipping through the front door, leaving me and Harry alone.   
  
I glanced around and saw Harry's robes and cloak in a pile next to the door. Before moving closer to him, I surveyed the land, it was all white - even the trees of the forest and the iced lake.   
  
I took a few steps towards Harry until I was standing directly behind him. When he didn't seem to notice my presence after a few minutes, I decided to let him be, and return inside. But as I turned my body toward the castle, I heard his voice. "Sit down, Hermione."   
  
Obliging, I took a seat next to him, and at first we didn't say a thing, but I began to shiver ever so slightly. Then he breathed, "Accio cloak," under his breath, and his black cloak was soon in his hands. A smiled lingered on my lips. He was an expert at that spell now….  
  
As he slipped the cloak around my shoulders, I began to protest, but he merely said, "You're cold."   
  
"But you're -"   
  
"Comfortable," he interrupted.  
  
"Its freezing!"  
  
"Its feels alright," he shrugged, trailing off.   
  
"Thank you," I murmured. After a few more moments of silence, I went on. "Ron's sorry," I said.  
  
"I know," he responded. "I am too."   
  
And there was silence again, until I spoke again. "Why are you out here?"   
  
"Its nice."   
  
"But… why?" I asked.   
  
"Why?"   
  
"Yes. Why?"  
  
"I went to the library when I got back yesterday."   
  
"Oh."  
  
"And looked for a bit of information on my family; about my parents and what they did as… professions. No one's ever told me, you know.… But anyway, so I did find some information, actually. A lot. I kind of got lost in the books. There was an entire book was about my Mum and Dad and their lives as the Boy-Who-Lived's parents…" he said with a twinge of remorse. "But Madame Pince didn't even check if there were any students still in there when she left. I ended up reading about my parents until about three," he continued. now with a bit of amusement in his voice. "I went to return to my dorm, but I noticed it was snowing. I went outside. It was so beautiful," he exclaimed, glancing at her face a bit, with a small smile. "Only half of the sky was clouded and let snow fall to the ground. Then other was clear - the moon was out. It was gorgeous, and I was entranced."  
  
Again, we were silent for a second, and I found myself in a state of amazement by his story. "But why… why are you only in shorts and a T-shirt?"   
  
He smile twitched a bit, which made me more curious, as he stumbled on his words a bit. "I…I was being a bit impulsive, actually. It was so beautiful… I wanted… I wanted to, no laughing, be a part of it. A part of the beauty of the earth. It was absolutely gorgeous… so simple… so perfect."   
  
His gaze was locked with the landscape, while mine was fixed upon his features. His hair, his brow, the curve of his cheek bone… I watched as he held his hand in front of him and switched his glance between the snow flakes melting upon his warm skin, and the flakes adding to the breath-taking view before him. With his other arm, he searched out my hand, and brought it into the air. "Watch." So I let him lift my hand, fluttering at his touch, and watched the snow flakes upon his hand. "It becomes you," he whispered, and for a moment, he was a child revealing a prized secret.  
  
It was odd, really. Harry was never this deep or emotional… this beautiful. I always thought of him as a typical, thick boy…. But here he was surprising me with his profound magnificence. Was he always this beautifully natural? Had I simply never realized it? Did he never let this show?   
  
Suddenly, he pulled our hands down to the stone stairs, and held it tightly. "Did you know that… I mean, last night I found out that… today is the day my parents died," he finished rather lamely.  
  
I immediately whipped my head to his, but he was still looking at the snow falling on the trees in the forest. "Are you okay?" I asked, studying his face.  
  
"Yes. I am."   
  
He was lying. I knew it. He knew I knew it. I knew he knew I knew it….   
  
"Its not as if I can bring them back or anything. Its just… its hard to forget the past."  
  
And oh, I had to ask him. How long had I wondered? How many times had I speculated? How many hours had I spent attempting to solve the mystery of Harry Potter? Why, I wanted to know. Why? That's it: Not too complicated. Just why? Why did he save miraculous stones, slay fatal snakes, rescue convicts, duel with Voldemort, join Dumbledore's Order, and train so vigorously? Why did he dedicate his life to others? Why? So I ask.   
  
"Excuse me?" he asked.  
  
"I said, 'Why?' I mean, why do you do it? You just said you know you can't bring your parents back, so why do you incessantly risk your life to save other people? And why don't you accept things in return? You just give away the Tri-Wizard Tournament winnings, even though you earned them. You have proved yourself, you know. You told me and Ron once that you wanted to prove yourself, not let people think this or that just because you're the Boy-Who-Lived. You have proved yourself. So why? Why do you do it and accept nothing in return?"   
  
His eyes locked with mine, and then flickered towards the stone steps. In attempt to make him answer, I slid my hand to his cheek, and redirected his face towards mine. But his green irises disappeared behind his lids and I felt his own warm palm slide across my knuckles, and cover my hand. But he did not return from his isolated land, and just pressed my hand closer to his cheek.   
  
And then everything clicked.   
  
Everything made sense.   
  
I understood.  
  
He strives for this, I realized. Feeling, emotion. Love - one touching another in a caring manner. He does these things, and people will be free to love him. He does these things, and he will be free to love. He does these things and he will be free. The feeling of my warm hand against his cheek, I knew, is comforting, loving, and so reassuring. It is all he wants. 1,000 galleons do not matter to him, because they are not love. He strives for the love he knew only as an infant. I understood. I knew.  
  
Of course, it was so obvious, as I have finally figured it out. But aren't all seemingly impossible solutions the most obvious after discovered?   
  
"This is what you want," I murmured, "to be touched and loved and cared for. So simple… not money, fame, or prestige… none of it matters to you - at all. You just want this. The Dursley's, they never… never gave you this… ever. Its all you want." Once again, I was transfixed. Was this my Harry?   
  
"You are so beautiful." I muttered.   
  
As he was in his own land, just feeling my touch, I ran my hand down his arm, feeling him too. His muscles contracted at my touch, and his lips curved into a smile. He was lost - gone in myriad amounts of feelings; the pure sensation of one touching another.   
  
And I had never been so amazed in my entire life. Not a spell, charm, animal, or book could have pulled me away from just watching Harry and feeling Harry and touching Harry. Just Harry. He was amazing. He was amazing as he felt the love I felt for him.   
  
I would have missed it if I weren't watching his lips. I don't think he even let the sound out of his mouth, but only formed it with his bluing lips: "This is love."   
  
But then there were only his lips. His lips that formed those three beautiful words: "This is love." His cheek felt warm against my hand, and vaguely, I wondered how he was so warm if he was only wearing his boxers and T-shirt. But then I remembered that he was only wearing those two garments because he wanted to be apart of the beauty of the Earth. And he was. And I was again lost again his lips - slightly parted and chapped, from the hours of sitting in the cold, with a few melting snow flakes upon them. My other hand, not rested between his cheek and hand, traced his lips slightly.   
  
My eyes slipped shut also as I just felt his lips against my fingers, and his hand atop of mine. I could feel the calluses along his fingers from his slivered broom and over-used quill.… I could practically see the dirt and ink stains blotched at his thumb form in my mind.   
  
With my eyes still shut, I leaned forward and replaced my fingers with my lips upon his own. And we just stayed in place there for a moment, as I felt his lips upon my own. There was no pressure, no movement, just lips and stillness and snow and touch.   
  
Just perfection.   
  
Then he parted his lips a little more and gently caressed my own. I could feel his smile against mine, and his hand tighten at my knuckles. He was so gentle, and soft - so… so full of feeling… all sensation and love.  
  
Then, with his hand that was not catching mine against his cheek, he pulled me closer, and this time, I didn't stop to wonder how his body was so warm in the cold - in the snow. Once my body was soaking in the heat radiating from his skin, the hand against my own slipped behind my neck and absently played with a few hairs that had escaped my braid.   
  
With one palm crushed against his chest, and the other still on his cheek, I scooted closer to him, tucking my legs under my body, and leaning into the kiss and his body. We pulled apart from the kiss, but did not move our bodies away. A sweet smile graced his lips, as well as my own, as we slipped our eyes open to search for reactions.   
  
Our eyes locked, and then there were lips again. Harder this time, and then I swept my tongue across his bottom lip, and our tongues explored - memorized - the other's mouth. My legs uncurled from beneath me, and I leaned hard into his body, so that he tumbled a bit backwards. Chortling slightly, Harry tightened his grip on my back, pushed against me, and pressed his lips firmly to my cheek, then traced my jaw back to my neck, where he continued with pressing, moistly, against my skin, causing slight gasps to escape my throat.  
  
And hands were everywhere now, caressing and sweeping over skin, as I nudged his lips back to mine. But after a few minutes of lips, and hands, and feeling - and emotion - I realized that I had been out here for quite a while… Pulling my lips from his, and breathing hard, I spoke. "We have to go to class."   
  
But his lips just found my collarbone bone and began to suck lightly, almost daintily. "Hmmm… no. I don't have to. Dumbledore said so. Skip with me. Please," he mumbled.  
  
"Harry, I really can't, I have to - Ergh…. Oh! Fine. I'm skipping." I wanted to go to class, I really did. But Harry… he was a really good kisser… And his lips, hands, and body felt so amazingly glorious against me.   
  
But then he broke off. "No… Harry," I pleaded, with a slight groan in my tone.  
  
"I have to… I have to find Ron first," he breathed. "I have to apologize for yesterday. Then we can… continue," he muttered. I just nodded, and pulled myself away from his body . But he grunted slightly. "Stay," he wined softly.  
  
Oh, the hypocrisy of it all.  
  
But I gathered his robe and cloak, then tossed it to him. "Put these on; you'll freeze."  
  
He nodded and slipped his robe on.   
  
"Harry?"  
  
"Hmmm?"  
  
"You did it."  
  
"Did what?"  
  
"You're apart of the beauty of the Earth. Your gorgeous."   
  
He smiled slightly. "Thank you, Hermione."  
  
After clasping his hand with mine, he pulled me into a hug. After brushing some snow from my hair, he kissed my lips softly, and then glanced at the snowy landscape once more.   
  
We walked inside, then separated: I to the Common Room, and he to Ron. But before I was out of reach, he seized my wrist, and pulled me back towards him. The entrance hall was empty, as all the other kids had left for the first classes of the day, and he embraced me once again. "I think… I think I might be falling in love with you," he whispered.   
  
I smiled back. "I think I might be falling in love with you too."   
  
He smiled at me, and then pressed his lips to mine. Then we parted, anticipating the time when he would return to the Gryffindor Tower, when we would just feel and love and touch. 


End file.
